Checks and Balances (2)

Thankfully, the first strike launched out of ignorance appeared to have ended well.

Cleanly, without a single death.

"Yes, from now on I'll leave all matters concerning them to Elder Hong's full discretion. Yes, I approve all preventive measures. Yes, yes... Just make sure there are no deaths. I'll speak to Elder Jin about the police myself. Yes, for the sake of the Weaver Mother."

After finishing the call with Hong Dong-soo, he resumed the treatment.

"Pardon the interruption. I had an important call come in. Now then, let's continue."

He layered Heal over Heal in quick succession, and just in case, he bestowed a blessing upon the child as well.

"Aaaahhh..."

"According to Providence. All things, according to Providence."

Right beside him, the child's parents drew the Providian sign of the cross and offered up their prayers.

It took a little longer than it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had for Hong Dong-soo and Cho Yongguk to lay fifty gangsters flat on the ground.

"It's finished."

The treatment ended in success.

From now on, this child would be free and healthy, without a single worry.

"Thank you! Thank you so much!"

"We shall serve the Weaver Mother and the Mother's Firstborn Son for the rest of our days."

He approached the parents, who wept tears of joy. The hardship they must have endured for the sake of their child's healing was plain to see.

"You've suffered so much."

A single sentence. That one small phrase — you've suffered — was the most perfect comfort and praise the parents could have received.

"No, not at all! Not at all! Khehk—!"

"Huek... huek..."

At Lee Seop's words, the couple felt as though something they had been holding back all this time was melting away, clean through. Like young children, they sobbed loudly and let it all pour out.

I bestowed blessings upon the two of them along with a light embrace.

"May the Mother's grace be with you, always in full."

Then he departed for his next appointment.

Behind him, he could feel the parents' love, quivering with joy.

Leaving that love fading into the distance behind him—

'Hmm?'

Walking at an easy pace, I sensed something ominous.

He stopped for a moment, closed his eyes, and reached into Foresight.

'Did I crush them too thoroughly? Flies are gathering elsewhere too, not just from the gangsters.'

It looked like troublesome affairs would keep coming for a while yet.

How should he put it — it felt like playing a tower defense game.

A small disturbance stirred across Seoul and the greater capital region.

Ordinary citizens could not perceive it.

That was because the targets were, for the most part, the gangs and mobsters of those areas, in the late hours before dawn.

"Aaaaah—aaah~♪"

Five or so strange figures.

Those figures split into groups of one or two, taking turns to walk the shadows of the megacity.

"Remember the promise made in the Demon Realm, Provians."

"The Weaver of Providence promises always, everywhere."

"The Mother of All Things is with you always, everywhere."

As if they were out on a stroll,

breathing the pre-dawn air of the underground and the alleyways,

chanting an unknown hymn from their lips,

they took their morning walk.

"Lonely Provian, what did you behold in purgatory?"

"I beheld the Firstborn Son embrace those whom the world cast aside."

The melody and lyrics — seemingly a loose arrangement and adaptation of the hymn Victimae Paschali Laudes —

"Isolated Provian, what did you feel in the cold of solitary confinement?"

"I felt the Status Window Idol projecting the Weaver Mother."

conveyed holiness to those who believed,

and the terror of the unknown to those who did not.

"Weary Provian, what did you doubt in the silence of the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠small hours?"

"I doubted His divinity, and my own sins."

Where they visited, lingered, and departed,

only the lingering echo of a religious song remained,

along with those who wept as their sins were purged away.

"Remember the promise made in the Demon Realm, Provians."

"According to Providence. All things, according to Providence."

The police were unnaturally silent about these incidents.

And one more thing was strange:

not a single victim reported any of it.

Sarang Church once boasted two hundred thousand followers across Korea and the world.

But ever since its leader was imprisoned for sexually exploiting female believers, rape, embezzlement, and soliciting murder, the church's influence had withered dramatically.

Once the leader went behind bars — in effect, for life — the flock of two hundred thousand dwindled and shrank until only one hundred thousand remained.

But the Sarang Church executives who had slipped through the fingers of the law did not give up.

They flailed desperately, wielding the data they had spent years accumulating.

With every ounce of grooming and gaslighting, intimidation, fear, and coaxing they could muster, they somehow kept that hundred thousand from slipping further.

Out of faith? Absolutely not.

Ordinary believers might not know, but the executives of Sarang Church understood all too well that the leader rotting in prison was a con man and a spineless cur.

The reason men like them still gripped Sarang Church was simple.

"I only just became the second Supreme Leader! My believers only just started recognizing me as their spiritual guide!"

They were the exact same breed of scum as the leader who'd gone to prison.

"Damn it all! One hundred thousand! The hundred thousand has cracked!"

Anyway — that number they had clung to with such vicious tenacity,

the symbolic one hundred thousand, had recently been broken.

The number who'd left was barely a thousand.

But the shattering of the hundred-thousand symbol was no small matter.

"Those devil-worshipping satanic heretics — why the hell of all places did they have to go multi in Paju!"

The cause was, of course, Providence Church.

Recently robbed of believers by Providence, Sarang Church — one of Korea's notorious pseudo-religions — went on high alert.

"This was deliberate. Otherwise those satanic bastards would never have planted themselves right next to our World Love Palace."

If they left things as they were, that thousand would become ten thousand, and then everything.

"This cannot stand. We have to do something."

Heo Jung-min, Sarang Church's second Supreme Leader, leafed through the ledger his predecessor had left behind before going to prison.

"How many of our Sarang Church believers are in the police right now?"

Reading the ledger, Heo Jung-min frowned.

"Barely any. And the ones who remain are all bottom-rung."

In its heyday, Sarang Church had a hundred and fifty believers in the police force alone — but after the leader's imprisonment and the information that leaked in the process, a considerable number of Sarang's officers had been suspended or quit.

"But thankfully, some of the police executives who received our 'hospitality' survived undetected. And the evidence is right here on this USB."

With a sickly smile, Heo Jung-min dialed.

"Well, well~! It's been a while, hasn't it? How have you been? It's me — Heo Jung-min, once an elder of Sarang Church, now the second Supreme Leader in place of our suffering First Supreme Leader Jang Myung-sung, who performs his holy penance in prison. You're still serving at the Kwangsu Unit, aren't you? Ah~ it's called the Mobile Investigation Unit now, isn't it? Renamed and all?"

[...]

A sigh, followed by a grudging reply, came through the receiver.

"My my~ Brother Park Young-jun, you've risen so high! A Senior Superintendent since we last met. As expected, our Sarang Church sisters have truly powerful 'holy energy,' don't they? Am I wrong? Back then, our pretty young sisters worked so hard every single night to bring good fortune to your career, Brother Young-jun. You remember, don't you?"

[...]

Park Young-jun ground his teeth.

He'd already been planning to raid the Providence Foundation sooner or later anyway.

It just grated on him ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that the trigger had turned out to be those Sarang Church bastards he'd half forgotten about.

'Fine. This works out. I'm pissed they're toying with my weakness, but Sarang Church has always been reliable about give-and-take.'

Recalling the "hospitality" of Sarang Church's female believers, buried in the far reaches of his memory, Park Young-jun felt an unhelpful tightening below the belt.

The devotion of female believers stained with religious fervor tasted different from bar girls who moved for money.

'Compared to that, Providence Church pisses me off. Those people have no code. No code at all.'

The moment Park Young-jun heard the word "cult," his lower half reacted before his brain, Pavlov-dog style.

Naturally, when he first became aware of Providence Church, his interest was piqued.

But that interest soon curdled into disgust.

'Those sons of bitches!'

Providence Church was every bit the cult, sure enough.

At some point it had been confirmed that they'd built connections with the police — and not just any police, but fairly high-ranking ones.

Officers around him had begun conspicuously looking out ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for, handling carefully, and tiptoeing around anything related to Providence Church.

'That whole atmosphere where, Providence Church alone, they'd put me in my place.'

And yet, whenever he tried to insert himself into conversations about Providence, those bastards would mutter something about karma and stick to their own little circle.

'Just you wait! This time I'll rip them open properly — those cult bastards, and all of you feeding off their money, I'll strip you all naked.'

Material to crush Providence Church was in overflowingly abundant supply.

Recently, several criminal organizations in Seoul had been annihilated outright.

Among them were nationwide syndicates under Park Young-jun's own Mobile Investigation Unit's purview.

The hand behind it was obviously Providence Church.

But those bastards, with their pride apparently intact to the end, never once reported it to the police.

No — to be precise, they were trembling in abject terror, as if they'd witnessed a monster.

'Something's there. Something serious and dangerous inside Providence Church!'

Despite all these red flags, the police had buried it thoroughly.

The order had come down from nothing less than a Commissioner-General-level line.

What a tear-jerkingly beautiful duo they made.

'Even Sarang Church at its absolute peak was never this bad. Damn it, is this country trying to collapse?'

It wasn't just the gangsters, either.

They hawked toner with messianic over-marketing as if it were holy water, and there were signs of exploitation of artisans and artists in the name of a "holy relics" business.

And what about the money-laundering allegations?

"Thank you all for finding the courage to come today. You are the hope of the Republic of Korea."

Park Young-jun expressed his gratitude to the people gathered here today.

Here stood the elite he'd assembled by mobilizing every connection he had.

"Not at all, Senior. Those Providence Church bastards are genuinely dangerous if we leave them alone. We must raid them at this very opportunity, without fail."

"He's right. A considerable portion of the police force now has ties to Providence. If this goes on, this nation's state religion will be Providence itself."

Mobile unit detectives who owed Park Young-jun, or who harbored the same lingering hostility toward Providence Church, burned with resolve.

"That Providence Foundation seems to be using believers as employees, and their labor practices are shady in more ways than one. It could even be human trafficking or labor exploitation."

"I was already sick of their false advertising, frankly."

"Hundreds of billions of won change hands at their monthly private auctions. Not a single won of tax paid. This one has to be taken down."

The Ministry of Employment and Labor, the Ministry of Environment, the Ministry of Food and Drug Safety, the National Tax Service, and more.

Prosecutorial investigators — the death gods of the corporate world, capable of shutting a company's doors with a single exposé — had likewise graced the gathering with their presence.

And that wasn't all. Reporters from no fewer than five media outlets stood on standby, ready to mobilize at a single group-chat message.

Vrrroooooom

Ten vehicles in total.

Reporters on standby for deployment.

Four administrative agencies and seven special prosecutors.

A public-awareness investigation commanded on-site by the head of the Mobile Investigation Unit himself.

Special-prosecutor-grade force, the kind unseen since before the days of the prosecution-police overhaul, had been resurrected.

"There may be pressure applied to us."

At the center of them all, Park Young-jun raised his phone.

"So everyone, for today only, keep your phones turned off—"

Riiiiing-riiiing

It was the very moment he was about to switch off his own phone first, as an example.

The call came at an exquisite moment.

Riiing-riiing

My very own soda pop~!

Ring ring, you've got a call!

Call the doctor, page a nurse~

Brrring-brrring

Whiiir whum whum

Starting with his, every single phone in the room began to ring. All at once.

"?!"

Park Young-jun, who habitually ignored all but the most important calls, frowned when he saw the caller's name.

'Tsk.'

The first call was from his direct superior.

Same rank of Senior Superintendent, but senior to Young-jun in academy class, pay grade, and position.

They were on fairly friendly terms, so the man was saved in his contacts as "Hyung-nim."

'Has the information already leaked?'

The reason for the call wasn't hard to guess.

Clicking his tongue, he hit decline.

Riiiiing

Immediately, another call came through from a different number.

'?!'

This time, Gyeonggi Northern Provincial Police Agency.

The jurisdictional authority over the Paju Peace Industrial Complex he was heading to raid today.

The call was from a senior officer serving there.

The man's rank: Superintendent General.

The fourth-highest rank in the police force.

A man ninety percent confirmed for the next Chief Superintendent promotion.

He was also a senior Park Young-jun genuinely respected.

"..."

This one, he could not ignore.

"...Yes, Senior."

[YAH! YOU SON OF A BITCH!!!]

A screaming wall of profanity came straight through.

'This country really is finished.'

Park Young-jun chewed on the thought internally and opened his mouth with perfect deference.

"Senior, I'll explain everything later and formally apologize. I'm sorry! I love you!"

[Yah! What the hell do you think you're—!]

Having said his piece, he hung up at once.

"Goddamn it."

The curse escaped him on its own.

"The Vice Minister?! The Vice Minister himself said that??"

"No, that's not what I—"

"I apologize. But... ah... I-I'm sorry."

Looking around, he saw chaos of the highest order.

The special prosecutors who had swaggered in full of bravado had, at some point, reverted into classic blame-deflecting bureaucrats, heads half-bowed, engrossed in phone calls.

Riiiiing-riiiing

Then, once more, Park Young-jun's phone rang.

An unknown number.

"Ugh, goddamn it."

He hurried to power the phone off entirely.

'Hold on. An unknown number at a timing like this?'

A prickle of unease stopped him, and he carefully answered.

[So you did pick up.]

"Who is this?"

[Yes, this is Seo Tae-joon, Director of the Social Safety Department at the National Intelligence Service.]

"The NIS...? Wait, the Social Safety Department — isn't that the NIS division that monitors cults?"

[Oh? You know your stuff. It's a fairly new department, so introductions have been a struggle, honestly.]

"Why are you calling? Afraid we're about to take your rice bowl? Then you should have — goddamn it — never let Providence Church grow this big in the first place!"

[Providence Church? Seems there's been a misunderstanding. That's not why I'm calling. Park Young-jun — I'm calling because of your connection to Sarang Church.]

"!!!!"